Gemotions

The letter arrived on a Tuesday, crisp and official-looking. It was from the new owners of the property next door, requesting the removal of the ancient sycamore. Her world tilted on its axis. The sycamore, older than the house itself, a silent sentinel that had witnessed generations. She was drowning in the ocean of her own emotions.

She reread the letter, each sentence twisting the knife. The reason? Interference with their satellite dish. She couldn't focus. Her vision blurred. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps.

She slammed the letter down on the kitchen table, the sound echoing in the silent room. She needed to do something, anything. She needed to protect her tree. She needed to fight back but she had no idea how.